A certain pit bull dozes like others
do, languidly. But if anyone wakes him, I don’t care who, including his master,
he snaps at once, ready to rend.
Was this the way he was ferociously
trained? Or is there something wild in him, completely ingrained? Who knows?
But when he is out-cold or, you could say, in-deep, he is the picture of the
gentlest being, placid, anything but deceitful and savage, far down in
slumberland, way under, utterly sweet, quiet, calm.
Moral: Let lying dogs sleep.
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